The Family in the Death
by JenniferSheppard2
Summary: Booth is dead and Russ may be dead. Is Bones next? Eventual B&B. Slight spoilers for The Wannabe in the Weeds. Early chapters are T. Will change to M in later chapters if you'd like me to continue with the story.


I don't own Bones and this is merely for fun...no profit happening here. Move along Hart Hanson and Fox. Small spoilery from The Wannabe in the Weeds, but mainly AU. It starts out with Brennan's POV. This is my first Bones fic and all errors are my own. Please be kind and let me know how I did or what I might have needed to do differently. Feedback is the best form of flattery! :-)

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Chapter 1

Brennan's POV

The funeral was over. Her emotional outbursts had run the gamut, from highly agitated when telling Angela she would have happily taken the bullet meant for her, to one of great sadness when alone in her thoughts, realizing she would never see Booth again. Angela had attempted to come back with Brennan to her own apartment, but she told Angela she wanted to be alone.

She drove to his apartment and unlocked the door, and an overwhelming sadness enveloped her. She walked to the cabinet where he had hidden his best expensive scotch. Taking out the bottle, she poured some into a glass and took a large swig. Staring around the room, she saw pictures on the bookshelves of Booth and herself at the last FBI picnic, the Jeffersonian Fundraising Ball and from what appeared to be a recent outing with Parker. Taking a seat on the couch, she lingered there in stony silence. The tears began to leak from her lids, tracking down her cheeks, until she was wracked with sobs.

After a while, the sobs subsided and she got up and moved about the apartment, reflecting on memories of them in every room. Well, almost every room, she thought to herself. There was one room she had really wanted to be in, but didn't have the guts to tell him how she really felt and now it was too late. After reminiscing while drinking several more glasses of scotch, and the bottle almost empty, she finally walked to the one part of his apartment she had never been in, his bedroom. The "Boothy" smell assaulted her senses, clinging to her entire being. Almost as if he were invading her personal space. The last white dress shirt he had worn was strewn across the chair, ready to be sent for dry-cleaning. Picking up the shirt, she moved the fabric close to her nose and inhaled deeply. Noticing he had not taken the time to make his bed from the day he was shot at "Checkerbox", she kicked off her shoes and laid down, bringing the shirt with her, holding it tightly to her chest. The tears began anew and stayed until she cried herself to sleep.

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Next Morning

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The early morning sun streamed between the blinds, awakening her from a deep slumber. An attempt to get out of the bed too quickly resulted in a head pounding explosion due to the large volume of alcohol she had consumed. Wondering where she was, she looked around the room with trepidation. The firm realization that Booth was gone and wasn't coming back hit her full force. She had little time to think anymore about it as her phone began ringing on the bedside table.

"Brennan."

"Dr. Brennan, this is Dr. Saroyan. We have a case and the FBI has requested your assistance, but Assistant Director Hacker has indicated their understanding that this has to be a very difficult time for you. They have advised me that they can ask us to request Dr. Edison instead, if need be.

The feeling of need to build up walls again to protect herself, to get back into her work and to avoid thinking about Booth overpowered her.

"No, that's fine Dr. Saroyan. I understand and will be in the office within the hour."

One hour later, everyone turned when she entered the lab doors about 10:00 am. She felt glances of pity aimed in her direction. As she readied herself to ascend to the platform, Angela zoomed down the stairs and placed an arm around her friend's shoulder and walked her to her office.

"Sweetie, I want to talk with you about the body up on the platform before you go up there. We have already been doing the work-ups for preliminary reports. I'm not sure how to tell you this, but…"

"Angela, just tell me."

"Sweetie, we think that the body may be Russ'."

Still silently grieving for her partner and not understanding the implication of what Angela was telling her, Brennan looked to her friend, appearing fraught with confusion.

"Sweetie, what I am trying to say is that you may be next on their list."

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***So...should I keep going?***


End file.
